


The Midway

by Terond76



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terond76/pseuds/Terond76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I have this theory that we are in this place called The Midway. The place between absolute despair and the pursuit of happiness." Angsty, one shot, sad, Grilo. Rated T for language, adult situations, and obvious reasons since it is set in the world of Repo!. Dedicated to Imaginary Dreams over at Fanfiction.net</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Midway

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: I've had to deal with this subject along with a bunch of other people. It just seemed to me that I would like to bring some realism to these characters. Also this one shot is dedicated to the wonderful ImaginaryDreams over at Fanfiction.net. Her story Haunting Me Tonight is fabulous Grilo story and should be read. It has some amazing twists and delicious Grilo.
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> ~T
> 
> P.S. Kind of stole the title of this from The Devil's Carnival expanded soundtrack. I really liked the song The Midway (score) even though it's quite short. I liked it very much.

He didn't expect to have to make so many decisions in his adult life. It seemed his mother had it easy, but she was a broke, drunk, whore who abandoned him at ten. She didn't do anything, and he was left to defend his house, get a job, and teach him self the dos and don'ts of life. He had often stole books from the local school after he dropped out at twelve, and begun working at the graveyard. He had the night shift, and he would dig graves for the unfortunate souls lost to NOS. He had spent six years of his life doing that before he had come across The Maestro.

The Maestro, a broad shouldered dark man had entered his life when he had turned sixteen. It was his actual birthday that he celebrated alone with an old bottle of watered down wine the corrupt priest would gift him every year. It was a strange, strange world, and he met the strangest man. The Maestro was shorter than the sixteen year old, who was 6'2", he had slicked back hair and a British accent. His thick cockney accent often got him all the ladies, and the young boy learned his womanizing ways through the older man.

He swaggered through the graveyard with a fedora on his head, and a leather over coat with red fur on the lapels. His tie blew in the wind as he crouched to slip into a grave that the boy had just dug up. The young boy had been watching from a far with his shovel over his shoulder. The young boy held the shovel defensively as he advanced on the man. The man sang a tune as he flipped the lid easily off the body.

"Now I steal not for rings from dead fingers, nor take from dead teeth silver or gold. But in the market of genetic coding, trust me that I will not be undersold! 'Cause it's all the same to me . . . We all sweat and save for impossible dreams . . .[1]" the man bellowed lowly to himself as he hoisted the body up, and turned then screamed girlishly whilst dropping the body.

"Bleeding Christ, boy! Give me a heart attack why don't ya?"

The young boy stared at the man. He was clean shaven, and wore spectacles that were edging off his nose. He had a crooked grin, and apparently had amazing strength due to lifting bodies. The man climbed out of the six foot grave easily, and dusted off his hands before standing in front of the boy.

"What be your name, kid?" His suave voice called out.

"Clarence Tooms, you?" The boy whimpered as he put down his shovel.

"Fitting name for a grave-digger. They call me The Maestro - assuming you have heard of me." the Maestro did a bow, and a wicked smile followed after.

"Are you a grave robber?"

"More or less. Oy, mind helping me with this body? There will be a pretty penny for you." the Maestro winked as he jumped back into the grave. He hoisted the body up, and threw the body up onto the edge of the grave. The boy quickly grabbed the corpse by the neck, and then pulled. However the head popped clean off the body, and the boy fell backwards with the corpse's head perched in his lap.

The older man landed with a roll on the ground, and groaned when he stood up. All his joints cracked in displeasure, and he cracked his neck himself. He looked down at the boy before grasping the head's hair and yanking it from the kid. He held the head in his hand, and smiled lazily at it.

"To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer  
the Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune,  
Or to take Arms against a Sea of troubles, [2]" the Maestro quoted as he cackled madly at the skull before patting his hip - looking for something. "Ever read Shakespeare, boy?"

The boy stuttered as he stood. The shovel in his head was no longer going to be of use to him. This man was not dangerous. "No - no, sir. I can't read."

"Can't read?" The man repeated as he snatched a syringe from his coat pocket, and placed his thumb gingerly on the plunger. "Tsk, tsk. A boy should have the opportunity to know what is in a text book. Tell me, kid, where's your Mum?"

"Don't have one, sir."

The Maestro sighed as he simply stuck the needle into the head's nose, and heard the satisfying crunching noise before plunging deeper. "A boy without a parent. Now that just won't do."

The boy looked on terrified as suddenly this luminous glow filled the vial inside the syringe. The boy drew closer to the Maestro, and watched in curiosity.

"I was hoping you'd like this."

"Why?"

"I need myself an apprentice."

"An apprentice for what?" The boy questioned.

"Grave robbing."

. . .

Five years had gone by. No more Maestro and no more Clarence Tooms.

Maestro had parted ways with the kid - and not the kindly way.

The kid, now a twenty-five year old man, was a grave-robbing extraordinaire. That's why they called him the GraveRobber. He knew the horrors of this world, he knew the things that had to be done, and he knew the Maestro had to be taken out. How else would he build a clientele to sell to?

The year was 2056 and Zydrate was still as popular as ever. He had built an empire for himself and he was rolling in credits - however he knew he too must meet his own demise.

The GraveRobber coughed heavily into his coat as he dizzily stood up from the ground. It had been a cold night, and he had found a mink coat to curl up to. He shivered as he pulled his coat tighter to him, and continued on the alley way. The closest graveyard was an indoor one. It would do for tonight.

The trek wasn't long however his insistent coughing almost got him caught twice. He slid in effortlessly, and smiled in triumph when he found a mass set of graves out in the open. He shoved the heavy stone slab off the top, and cringed at the loud noise it made.

Suddenly a scuffing noise occurred to the side of him, and he casually looked over to his left. The only thing he could see at the moment was a bobbing head going past grave stones before the body settled right in front of him.

He grabbed tightly onto the body, and heaved the corpse out of her coffin. He dumped her unceremoniously onto the ground with a loud thud. He took another look at the body before him, and he gasped.

This was the one.

This would girl be his apprentice.

. . . 

He had never seen a more broken person than the girl he held in his arms. Her sobs had turned into dry heaves, and her nails every so often was claw into his pectorals. He tried so desperately not to cough in her face. It would just make matters worse. Suddenly the girl lifted her head, and looked up at him with tearful eyes and a small pout.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did he do those awful things? Why did I believe him? Why did my mother die?!" She screamed as she tried to push against the GraveRobber, but he simply held her tighter with his face pressed against her fake hair.

"I have this theory that we are in this place called The Midway. The place between absolute despair and the pursuit of happiness."

"How do we get to the pursuit of happiness?"

"I'm still working out the kinks in my hypothesis."

. . .

The first night he had taken her out harvesting was a failure. He couldn't remember how many times she had tripped over a dead body or broke a vial. She paid a hefty price for each wrong doing. At the moment he was giving her a thorough punishing - behind a mausoleum with just his coat hiding their bodies from the outside world.

Her breath washed over the back of his neck as her thighs gripped tightly to his bouncing hips. Her shaking heads clutched his multi-colored dreads, and pulled on them every so often. He knew when he got a sharp pull he hit just the right spot. He groaned as her nails scratched his skull softly as the coil in her stomach exploded. Her wail of satisfaction set him off, and he roar into junction between her neck and shoulder as he found his release.

He noticed her bow legged-ness as she climbed down off of him, and wobbled over to grab her panties. She slipped them on cautiously as to not fall. She almost reminded him of a baby deer walking - it was cute. He tucked himself back into his jeans, and zipped up his fly as he wandered over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, and let his hands cover the bruises he had made earlier this week.

"How was that for a punishment?" GraveRobber growled in her ear.

She moaned as his teeth grazed her ear, and she took a step forward to escape the man's unbearable presence. However that one step triggered an alarm, and sirens blared wildly as both the perpetrators looked around madly.

Shilo took off around the corner with her satchel fastened tightly around her shoulder, and she glanced over her shoulder with a wicked grin.

"You'll be getting it when we get home!" GraveRobber called after her as he too rounded the corner homeward bound.

. . .

She started to notice something wasn't right with him when he stopped going harvesting with her. He would shoo her with a tired hand, and roll back over in bed awaiting her return. They then would sell together - more like she would sell and he'd watch from a far. He was always a watcher, but never like this. He would creep in the alley behind her feigning to be an addict. He was no longer the GraveRobber - he was Tomb, an ex-priest. He had a whole back story set for himself. She barely listened to him when he first explained it since she thought it was absurd.

She kissed his cheek softly before leaving, and hailed a cab to take her to the east side. She found that the graveyards over there were safer without her knight in a fur coat. She played with the fur on her on coat, and smiled down at it. He had payed a pretty penny for it, and she adored it. He knew exactly what she liked.

She knew he loved her. She told him all the time often.

All she would get in return was, "I care for you."

When he started getting the night sweats it started worrying Shilo. He would wake up, and be drenched in sweat. It would soak their mattress, and even worse it would scare him. He often thought he was drowning - at least that's what he said when he woke up.

However tonight he was in agonizing pain. He was curled into her side wailing - no sobbing into her side. His right hand clutched his lower abdomen tightly as his body was taut against hers. She had a few ideas at what this was -

Pregnancy, however he was a boy. She chuckled in her mind at the thought, and went back to thinking.

He could be having appendicitis, but that would have already killed him three weeks ago when the pains started.

It could also be pancreatic cancer . . . she hoped it wasn't that.

She looked back down at him when she noticed that the sobs and screams had stopped. He was passed out below her with a hand still holding his side in a vice grip. She sighed quietly as she maneuvered away from him and tip toed to her bookshelf. She snatched a particular book off the shelf, and began her research.

Not too long before the silence was interrupted by a growling GraveRobber. Shilo glanced up from her book, and immediately was at his side with a cold wash cloth. She dabbed it carefully against his chest as he pulled her to him. He held her in his arms, and inhaled her scent as the wash cloth brought down his temperature.

"What you reading in those books over there?"

"Stuff."

"Like?"

"On these pains you're having."

GraveRobber stayed quiet for a moment, and then glanced down at her. "What do you think it is?"

"Well, I ruled out pregnancy." She jested lightly. GraveRobber chuckled gently. He knew neither of them could have kids. He knew Shilo's medicines as a child had froze her cycle and he knew he had gotten that surgery long ago. He didn't want any little GraveRobbers running around and he often back in the day traded sexual favors for hits.

"I know what it is." He said after their small laughter had quieted down.

"What?"

"Cancer."

. . .

The five letter word had been stuck in her head for months as she watched her big bad GraveRobber slowly diminish into nothing.

When she had met him two years ago he weighed a solid 180 pounds. He had lost sixty pounds, and she could clearly count each of his ribs. She fed him as much as he could, but his body rejected the food. He had a specific bucket to the side of their bed for vomiting. For the past week Shilo has recorded that his has retched at least once an hour. He also couldn't even get out of bed to go to the restroom . . . there was another labelled bucket for that.

He also had a full head of hair when they had met, but Shilo's pain killing drugs she used made him lose all his hair. His head was as smooth as a cue ball, and he often ran his enormous bony hands across it in worry. His blue eyes lost the vibrancy they once held, and now they often looked at Shilo with dullness and hopelessness.

Shilo checked his pulse as he drank a cup of water slowly. It was the only thing his body could digest properly these days.

"Shilo," He said quietly to grab her attention.

She glanced up at him as she took her hand off the junction of his forearm and upper arm, and grasped his hand. "Yeah?"

"I love you." He said with a choking voice as he turned his head away. Shilo placed a hand against her mouth holding back a small sob.

She knew this was the only time he was going to be able to say it - and she knew he meant it.

She turned his head back to her forcefully, and then devoured his mouth with her own. His tears mixed with her own as she pulled him down on top of her to have him one last time. They both couldn't help, but say 'I love you' as they found their peaks together.

Starvation was what had gotten to him. He could have probably lived another month with the cancer, but his body couldn't stand another day without food. She had woken up next to him the next day. He had a peaceful expression on his face while he was curled up in her arms.

She buried him the next day. He was in the mausoleum with her mother. The three people she loved the most were there.

Her mother - lost to this world because of wrath and lust. She no doubt was lost to the second world of despair for her betrayals.

Her father - a monster turned into a vengeful man holding his daughter captive to serve his own gluttony. He never told his daughter the truth until the day he died, she consider it sloth on his part. He definitely had a one way ticket to Despairville.

And her mentor, friend, and lover, GraveRobber - She didn't know where he was at this moment to be honest. The man was full of good deeds and sin. He was the charismatic image of addiction and he oozed of sex. It all changed when he met her however - maybe she changed him. Maybe he was on his way to the pursuit of happiness. She had saved his soul.

She just knew for certain that she was still stuck in The Midway.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] This is part of a song called Anno Domini it is the 'original' 21st Century Cure and was part of the Necromerchant's Debt
> 
> [2] This is the first verse in the soliloquy from Hamlet.
> 
> Author's Note: I do not own anything Repo! related.


End file.
